


The World Is Ours Now

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1940s, Albus Dumbledore Bashing, F/F, F/M, Gen, Ginny Weasley Bashing, M/M, Master of Death (Harry Potter), Past Relationship(s), Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:15:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22300930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Get ready for battle.” He ordered sharply, his own Holly wand in his hand. “I don’t want us defeated by the slut because we were sharing last minute farewells while hoping to get 1st class seats to Heaven.”🐾🐾🐾Collecting all three Hallows had its consequences, such as immortality, but more than that it gave an opportunity to make the world theirs...*Summary not confirmed...
Relationships: Charlus Potter/Dorea Black Potter, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Orion Black/Walburga Black, Ron Weasley/Blaise Zabini
Comments: 12
Kudos: 107





	1. PROLOUGE

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!!! This is my first ever story so I hope very much that you will leave criticisms on how to improve my... less than average writing skills.
> 
> P.S HAPPY LATE WISHES FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY SAM!!!! HERE'S YOUR GIFT!!!! 🎁🎁🎁

The mind-numbing Winter wind swept through, possessing the power to chill one to the bones. The forest ground was thick and wet with the copious amount of snow piled upon it due to the, now, gradually lessening blizzard.

The deathly taciturnity of the dun forest, showered with the ghostly presence of the silver moon reflected a sense of foreboding.

Then suddenly, shattering the silence of death, a sound _–CRACK_ _–_ echoed.

The snow crunched under the immediate assault of pressure instilled upon it. As if through twisting space and time itself five figures appeared where the noise had sounded. 

Drying brown substance –with a heavy smell of iron lingering- was splattered across their selves, their clothes were ripped in places and some carried the pain of burns on their skin. But they didn’t seem to notice, or didn’t deem it worth their attention enough.

Gasping, without a second to waste, they ran.

They ran amidst the damning snow even as it stuttered their efficiency.

It was getting harder and harder by every passing second.

To hold on.

To hope for.

To keep on going.

Yet, they did not stop.

For if they did, it would mean that they had not given everything they had.

It would mean that they had given up.

And never.

Ever.

Not even on their last breath would they ever give up.

Not when giving up means losing.

Not when giving up means surrendering.

Not when giving up means ensuring _their_ victory!

So no, they would not give up. Never.

“Harry.” The only woman in the party of five, her short and frizzy hair tied together by a bandana, called the man sprinting before her.

“Yes, sister mine?” He inquired, his glowing eyes turning to find hers.

“This is the end, isn’t it?” She asked, her face wide open. The small upturn of her lips and her mild brown eyes portrayed her wistfulness as she stared at him.

The man, with tussled black mop of hair, stopped. Slowly, the other three men came into a halt around them panting in the slightest.

They all knew what she had uttered was the truth, they had known from the beginning. Yet, admitting the truth seemed more terrifying than the prospect of facing the entire nation (led by traitors under misconception, nonetheless mighty and vigorous.)

“I am afraid so.” He said as he swallowed and closed his eyes in resignation for a mere second before flashing them open. He let his eyes stray to each of his comraderies. Pain filled him as he held each one of their gazes while his mind wondered over the hundreds of pointless _what-if_ s.

Every time he tried to imagine them living happily, because he knew they wouldn’t have lived in contentment. Nor would have the others, whom they had lost in their survival. “But, then again stopping now is not an option, is it?”

The last man, with tanned skin and blue eyes shockingly electric, snorted.

“Of course not.” He said. And seeing the look of guilt befall upon the raven head, he quickly continued. “Don’t you dare blame yourself Hadrian –this was not your fault! We were betrayed! They _used_ you and then threw you away, expecting you to sit still and look pretty! When you showed them your displeasure they turned against you. They always did.”

“Don’t think on it too hard, mate.” The man with hair akin to the fresh shade of blood said, his face also carried a smile expressing his resignation. “We evaded them for more than two years, we have merely run out of places.”

“To be honest, I did not even consider lasting this long.” The man with peroxide-blond hair chuckled with weary amusement, his silver eyes observing their surrounding tiredly.

“Hey, don’t tell me you’ve doubted our capability!” The red-haired male cried with faux offense.

Though before the previous voice could response to the barb, the woman cut it.

“Boys, please do control your urges.” She sighed in obvious exasperation and with a small quirk to her lips that showed her fondness. The two who had been the in receiving point of her fondness spluttered before turning silent.

A small, almost silent, round of laughter spread through the group.

Just as it had come, it was snatched away by the swirling breeze.

Running constantly isn’t a great experience, especially if you were to be on the run for nearly two years avoiding kidnappers, assassins and most importantly conspirators whom are still craving the sight of your blood spilled.

The silence lingered while they openly regarded each other and analyzed their surroundings.

Nothing short of silence befell upon their ears, yet instinctually Harry knew, in his gut, that the danger is following their trail.

“Get ready for battle.” He ordered sharply, his own Holly wand in his hand. “I don’t want us defeated by the slut because we were sharing last minute farewells while hoping to get 1st class seats to Heaven.”

The others immediately followed the order. Their wands gripped firmly in their hands as they waited, observing.

Time started to tick by.

_Tick. Tick. Tock. Tick._

Even the air seemed to still foreboding the deaths.

_Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick._

More minutes pass by, as they await not daring to relax.

_Tick._

_Tick._

_Tick._

_Tock._

“Still under the illusion we have a chance in heaven.” Muttered the Blood-Red man with mirth as the attack began. “Poor soul”

“ _I heard that Ronald!_ ”

The attacks ceased to a stop suddenly.

Their pulses elevated. Silence at the battlefield meant imminent danger.

_Tock._

_Tock._

_Tock._

_Tick._

The last thing they saw was the mad cackle on Ginerva Weasley’s face as they were engulfed by the swirling tongues of the blistering black fire that had claimed their flesh.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Appointment with Death.  
> •  
> This was Death? 
> 
> All the beauty in the universe personified into one being?
> 
> What happened to Aphrodite?
> 
> Hell, what happened to Euros?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What I learned from writing this chapter?
> 
> I am an absolute failure in writing stories. 
> 
> I thank @Lady_Tragedy for her offer to beta this shit of a book and for her support!

** Chapter One **

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

He was sitting down?

Or was he standing up?

All he was aware of was the all-encompassing darkness that possessed his senses, that urged him to remain passive.

He blinked, and blinked once again as he felt his own being. He was alive. But he wasn’t either. Beneath him the ground felt… well, it didn’t feel like anything. Not hot, but not cold either. Not rough, yet not smooth. Neither soft nor hard.

It was just there.

He was lying down, he realized.

His eyes remained open, after fluttering in the darkness to gain any thought to where he was.

Had they won? No, they hadn’t –he remembered with a frown- they had been outnumbered. Was this the end then? He had died before, but then he had been brought to King’s Cross.

He raised his arms and looked at them, they were smooth and had a hint of gold, but most of all they were free of scars!

He was clothed too, this time.

Thank Merlin.

Instead of concern, he felt a mild curiosity steering to life in him.

Where was he?

As if hearing his question, the dark mist of nothingness evaded paving way the light.

He wasn’t in King’s Cross, and it didn’t appear that he was anywhere at all.

There was only mist and shadows swirling around him. The forged into shapes of all kinds –they also broke apart fading into nothing.

The repetitive action made him smile, for some unsayable reason. An understanding came to the surface of his mind, one that seemed to be buried deep waiting for the right moment to rise.

_The Beginning and the End…_

The Cycle of Life and Death.

The repetition of universe.

Lives being birthed and reaped again and again, continuously.

“At least until the universe dies.”

A voice, soft as silk, said mildly.

“Leaving way to another to be born.” Harry countered with a smile.

The voice chuckled, ever so softly before speaking again. “Haven’t you wondered why you had been at King’s Cross, the last time?”

“Because it was a version of crossroads for me, at least that is what I figured.” Harry admitted. “Who are you? And where are you?”

The voice skimmed close to his ear, though there wasn’t anyone behind him.

“True, it had been a crossroad for you but also no.” The voice said. “King’s Cross was the place where your life changed; for better or worse.”

Harry stiffened, the question slipping from his tongue before he knew it. “What?”

The voice –a being or a person- spoke again, this time Harry heard the smile in it.

“You became the Boy-Who-Lived.” The Voice said. “Well, to the public, at least. You portrayed what they expected of you and followed the Light’s morals without question –though I do suppose that wasn’t your fault.”

Whoever was this being, they knew him –the real him- very well. It should have been unnerving yet all he felt was intrigue.

“I did.” Harry cocked his head waiting for the soothing tone of the Voice to return. “Is this the end?” He hoped it was. After a lifetime of almost dying at every turn of his head he just wanted some peace and quiet. Although, that wasn’t possible, he conceded, or he wouldn’t have been brought here –wherever this was- he should have just passed on. No, he had a funny feeling that he was being given a second –third probably- chance.

“Correct.” The voice echoed with a hint of pride.

Harry felt bewildered and for the first time heavy concernment. After the debacle with Voldemort his first act had been of creating mind shields. It had worked splendidly. (It seemed that Severus Snape had been teaching him one of the Occlumency methods unique to the line of Prince. When one possesses the blood of Prince that carries centuries of talent the method is like a piece of cake, enabling one to hold a secure mind, however if you’re not…)

“How can you…”

“Read your mind?” The Voice ventured when Harry’s words died at his lips. “You possess no magic here, only I can control the magic between worlds.”

“Who are you?” Harry repeated, confusion blooming within him. “And why can’t I see you? Are you formless?”

The Voice laughed, it was a pleasant sound –Harry thought as he failed to make a suitable comparison for it. “I am what mortals call the Angel of Death. Though I do suppose there is nothing angelic in that regarding the mortal mindset.”

Harry felt his lips twitch but he said nothing in return, content to let the Angel of Death answer his queries.

The Voice sounded again, with a –dare he say- a hint of fondness?

“As for why you can’t see me? I merely chose not take on a physical form. I am formless yet I am with form, sometimes in between both.” As the Voice talked a subtle swirl of black fog built up before Harry. “For now though, having a form would be much more efficient.”

There, before him, stood a figure seven feet tall with the structure of a lean and elegant man. His dark curls were silky and seemingly messy, and his skin was pale but not abnormally so, he was wearing a muggle suit underneath a heavy coat with turned up collars, and he had a blue scarf wrapped around his slender neck. However, what struck Harry about the being was not the form they took, or the sinful beauty they projected –no, what struck him most were the eyes. They were –in word- beautiful. They were green with a touch of grey and blue. And when the being took a step forward and tilted their head a bit the eyes turned green to brilliant grey.

This was Death?

All the beauty in the universe personified into one being?

What happened to Aphrodite?

Hell, what happened to Euros?

Harry stared. And stared. And stared for what seemed like a century and only blinked to awareness when Death cleared his throat looking amused.

Realizing that he had been ogling Harry ducked his head looking decidedly somewhere else as he felt the heat rush to his face making his ears blaze red. Thinking was a bad idea, he decided, especially when you’re around Death.

“My brother and Lady Aphrodite and in their element spreading chaos around the world.” Death said. Harry heard rather than saw the shit-eating grin on the angel’s face and did the only sensible thing he could do about it –he pouted (though he would forever deny doing it in front of Death).

Death grinned at the sight of his Master acting, for all that has happened in his life, like a five-year-old. Harry Potter, reminded him of the youngest Peverell brother –witty and smart with the wisdom of an old soul. Not that young Harry is an old one, rather a new one actually –living through thirty-six lives is not old, however his soul had learned much more than any other soul does in the span of a thousand lives.

That itself was what had intrigued him and had drawn him to Harry.

The boy (or man) was a trouble magnet, he never does anything yet his life is always an adventure. His first life had been as a Gardenia –a flower that had been picked out of the soil giving it life by a lover to be gifted to his paramour. The paramour turned out to be one of the abominable brides whom had struck terror in the hearts of men whom had mistreated women, she had been part of a campaign fighting for the empowerment of women.

Fascinated by the continuous trail of chaos that had been left by the young soul Death had kept a keen look out for him. And when in his thirty sixth life the boy had collected all three Hallows he was displeased, quite the opposite really. Throughout the thirty-six lives he has lived Death noticed one special feature of interest and he didn’t like it at all; Fate’s favorite was none other than the young soul that had captured his attention. So, when Harry had become the ‘Master of Death’ of course he wasn’t displeased, you could even say that he was ecstatic.

Harry, it seemed, had regained himself and was feeling very inquisitive all of a sudden again.

“I don’t understand. Why am I not passing on?”

“You collected all three of my Hallows.” Death stated allowing derision cloud his words. “And then promptly disregarded your status and avoided –even suppressed- your newfound powers.”

Harry flushed in shame. That had not been one his wisest decisions. He had hidden the wand and the stone, allowing himself to only have his cloak. Even then, he had been powerful –more than others and that had scared them; they accused him of turning dark, and evil.

“I suppose we could let bygones be bygones, especially considering the amount of control they had you under.” Death said somewhat leniently.

Harry frowned a little at the reminder of Dumbledore and his schemes. The old man had been smart, he’d give him that; manipulating several generations of witches and wizards, raising him like a pig for slaughter and making sure he’d not survive pass his use.

If not for his stubborn self, he was sure that would have been what happened.

“Now.” The being flourished his arms dramatically and turned making his way forward. Around him the shadows shifted and gradually took the forms of several divans. The Angel of Death fell down graciously on one of them.

How he made that look so elegant, Harry didn’t know, but he supposed that came with the package of being a deity.

When Death gestured to the one divan opposite, Harry quelled his wondering and sat on the offered seat.

“Onto business!” Death announced rather cheerfully.

“Yes, but what business?” Harry asked raising an eyebrow. “And what happened to my friends?”

“Ah yes, in a moment though. We do have something to discuss.” Death straightened his posture and clasped his hands.

“Even without my gifts, the powers you gained remained. You dug deep into them during the battle.”

Harry nodded. “I felt it.” He remembered calling to it in desperation during the battle. It seemed knowingly acknowledging the powers had resulted in this unique situation he found himself in.

“With all three Hallows giving you their allegiance as the last Peverell bloodline… you became someone greater than a mere wizard. You alone have the ability to reshape the magical world as you see fit, stop the endless and needless deaths." Death told him, his voice seductively warm as if he could gently coax Harry into believing him.

Harry frowned doubtfully. “How can I do that?”

Death rose from where he was seated and stalked towards him. It was like watching a predator waiting to pounce on its prey. In this case, Harry _is_ the prey.

The deity prowled around him, circling him, trapping him. His face was tilted in a way that highlighted his cheekbones and the purple shirt the deity wore under the coat did nothing to alleviate Harry’s heartbeat.

_Why me?_ Harry sighed in defeat. _It’s always me. Why?_

Harry gasped as he felt long fingers grasp his shoulders. Dear lord, he was going to be tortured –wasn’t he?

Hot breath against his neck was the only warning he got before lips soft as a petal brushed against his ear.

Harry went rigid, his muscles clenched together tightly and ever so slowly heat spread across his face.

“D-Death!” Oh wow. He sounded strangled to even his own ears. His own voice betrayed him!

The angel chuckled at his obvious discomfort, his left hand slipping from Harry’s shoulders to join his other hand by looping around Harry’s neck.

“As Master of Death, time has no meaning; you can will yourself anywhere, anytime you wish," Death stated calmly as if hasn’t got Harry in a sort-of-embrace (compromising embrace, actually).

Harry struggled against the sensations depriving him of his mind. When he was finally, a bit composed began talking.

“You mean… I can stop Voldemort from being resurrected?” He asked thoughtfully. That idea did have some potential. However, Voldemort was only one problem; there are so many problems in the world that needed corrected. “I thought that it was bad for wizards to meddle with time?”

The deity huffed –once again the hot breath making contact with Harry’s neck- and dryly said. “You are not just a wizard, Hadrian. Why sell yourself short? You could stop… everything.”

Harry frowned and a scowl took place on his lips. “Why should I though?” After being treated like dirt when they didn’t like him and the being put in the spotlight when they needed him –like an on and off switch- why should he care for the wizarding world?

“Whether you like it or not, the world is yours to protect.” Death informed him. Then he leaned forward slightly his chin resting against Harry’s shoulder.

“Besides,” Death continued, his voice dark and seductive, coaxing Harry into an idea. “Revenge is much sweeter, is it not?”

That made Harry come to a stop. This time-travelling concept is starting to grow on him.

Death chuckled letting go of the young Master of Death and went back to his seat.

“You could change everything for the better.” He said as he was once again seated (read; sprawled) on his divan.

“You already have an idea?” Harry asked and slumped against his divan –partly in relief, partly overwhelmed.

Death smiled. “Oddly enough, no. It was you who had the idea actually, if you can recall.”

“Me?” Asked Harry raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

“Yes, you.” Death confirmed. “Does 1940 ring a bell? You wondered how it would be like if you had stopped Tom from creating Horcruxes.”

Harry remembered. It was one of the thoughts that wander in his mind during the dead of the night when sleep deceived him letting him prey to his own mind.

“Yes. It was a onetime thing though.” Harry said.

“You wanted it, no matter that it was a onetime thought.” Death countered smiling pleasantly. “Don’t worry, you’ll grow into your powers with time. Now, the other matters will be discussed with your friends here.” He clapped his hands lightly.

Instantly his friends materialized on the other seats. Silence endured for a few moments before it was shattered.

“Bloody hell…” Ron muttered rubbing his face.

Laughter, unrestrained laughter, for the first time in many years, swelled up in Harry’s belly. He cracked up, giggling in mirth at Ron’s expression.

The others following him began laughing earnestly. Death sat back with an amused smirk adorning his lips.

“Where are we?” Hermione asked after sobering up.

“In the place in between.” Death answered. “And I’m the Angel of Death, as you mortals call me.”

“What?” blurted out Blaise, an incredulous expression fixed upon his face.

When Death looked at Harry, quite unimpressed, Harry had stifle another round of laughter. Instead, he turned and began explaining what he was able to, to his friends.

When he was finished, instead of the surprised look they wore a rather resigned look upon their face.

“Only you, Harry.” Mumbled Draco. In retrospect he should have expected these kind of shits to happen when around Harry Potter.

Death cleared his throat drawing the attention to himself.

“To business.” He stated, this time narrowing his eyes as if daring anyone to interrupt him. When none did, he continued.

“Collecting the Hallows gives you the one thing Voldemort wished for more than anything.” He said.

“A nose?” Ron asked, though from the shakiness of his voice it was clear that he understood.

Hermione swatted him with a hiss of ‘ _Ronald!’_

Harry resisting the urge to roll his eyes looked imploringly at Death to continue.

“Immorality.” Death said. “However, don’t mistake that as never dying. You will die when your life ends, and you will be reborn as usual.”

Harry was confused.

“Then, how does this qualify as immortality?”

Death smiled, his pink lips curling (if anyone saw Harry’s ears turn red, they didn’t comment). “Because I will be there with you.”

When Harry and the others blinked uncomprehendingly he explained further.

“Souls are reincarnated all the time, some souls old as Earth formed –some new. I am control of their death –or rather reaping their souls after their demise and of their time in between. It is Fate who controls the butterfly effect of every move in the world. You, Hadrian, are Fate’s favorite.”

Harry felt his jaws drop.

_Fate’s favorite?_ Sighing, Harry snapped his jaws shut. _That makes a lot of sense._

Deciding to ponder over that later he turned his focus elsewhere –to more pressing matters.

“If…” Harry stopped searching for the right words. “What has changed in my reincarnation cycle now that I have accepted the powers and status the Hallows granted me?”

Death grinned. “I already told you. Master of Death isn’t a one-time thing Hadrian. You would die when (he knows the young Master of Death will) you wish for it (or are met with an ‘accident’) and then be reborn again with your memories or should you wish for, without your memories. You could also, like what you’re about to do, travel through time.The world literally is yours to protect.”

“Right.” Harry stated dryly. “No pressure then.”

“Oh yes.” Death gloated. “You’ll do well in Slytherin.”

“Um, but where do we come in?” Hermione asked hesitatingly.

“Ah, I nearly forgot.” Death said. “The soul bond you all share allows you to be wherever Hadrian is. For an example, the five of you bonded to each other –albeit unknowingly- about ten lifetimes ago. And here you are, once again together.”

The five friends blinked at each other and Harry frowned his mind wandering to a similar boy who had a close group of his own…

“Soul bonds of this kind are breakable.” Death explained gently. “Tom Riddle’s own soul bond with his friends was shattered when he made his horcruxes. Even then, the underlying familiarity brought them closer to him. Tom was the center of his bond just like you are of yours.”

Silence lingered for a bit as they took in what the deity had uttered.

“This all seems a bit cliché though.” Draco chuckled.

The other four of the group nodded in agreement while Death rolled his eyes dramatically. 

“Oh everyone’s a critic!”

Smiling Harry looked at Death.

“You said 1940s” He stated.

“Yes, Tom Riddle will be starting his fourth year at Hogwarts and along with them you five will be too.”

“How are we to survive in that time?” Draco asked, gnawing his lips worriedly. He was right to worry; they are to go into a time where status gave a person the utmost influence to change the world.

“Yes, what names are we supposed to take, our status, money…?” Harry asked. Without a status they will not be able to survive, much less save the world.

“Take the name Peverell.” Death said. “The Potter family has only one line, they would be more than curious if you were to take that name.”

Harry nodded.

“As for the others, Draco will be a Malfoy –only from the French line of the family. You wouldn’t be suspected. Blaise will be a Zabini, fled from Bulgaria. Ronald would become a Prewett from Wales, and Hermione as a McKinnon from the lost line (descended from squibs).” Death said. “When you are inquired, I’ll be there to make sure things go right.”

“So. Go with the flow then?” Ron asked with a smirk.

“Precisely.”

Harry rose from his seat. Following his lead his friends got up too.

“Are we to go now?” Harry asked –his voice betrayed his worry and concern.

Death, on his feet, vanished the divans and turned to face the young soul.

“Yes.” He said almost kindly with a smile adorning his face. “You worry for no reason Hadrian; after all you are not only Fate’s favorite.”

Then he snapped his fingers allowing light to take hold of them before Harry could process what had been said.

The last thing the five remembered was blinding white light that engulfed them.


End file.
